1609
by Jadesfire
Summary: What if the Marvel Universe had started in 1602? How would our favourite heroes have changed the world by 1609? [Waiting for time, inspiration and an ending, but definitely not abandoned!]
1. A Beginning

_With thanks to all reviewers, especially Minnaloushe, for suggestions and comments - all are read and noted! And no, I'm not going to answer questions. You'll just have to keep reading..._

**Introduction**

1602 was a stand alone series of comics, the ultimate 'What If' story. What If our favourite Marvel heroes had been around in 1602? How would they have changed the course of history? The story centred on Sir Nicolas Fury, spymaster to Queen Elizabeth I and featured (in no particular order) Dr Steven Strange, Peter Parquah, Matthew Murdoch, Sir Reed Richards and family, a certain gentleman named Banner (servant of King James of England), Count Otto Von Doom, and Carlos Javier. Thrown into this world is Virginia Dare, a genuine historical character who turns out to have some rather extraordinary abilities.

Those who we would call mutants are condemned as 'witchbreed', hunted and persecuted. Carlos Javier has gathered five such young people and trained them to use their gifts, striving for peace with humanity. Opposed to him is the Inquisitor, father of Wanda and Petros, who would wage war on humanity and any witchbreed who stand against him. In the political and military struggles of the time, these characters are all thrown against one another, fighting the authorities who would see them dead and fighting to save their world from being destroyed.

It is discovered that these strange things have happened because there is a rip in the fabric of time, caused by Rojhaz, apparently a native American who has been protecting the new colony at Roanoke Island. Rojhaz (say his name aloud and call him 'Captain' to figure out who he is!) was sent back in time and his presence is ripping the world of 1602 apart. In order to repair the damage, Fury throws himself and Rojhaz into the breach, sealing it up. Instead of being destroyed, the world of 1602 is preserved in a bubble by the Watcher, a higher being who has been overseeing human development, and who has become fond of this 'wrong' world. Thus for the past seven years, this parallel world has continued, similar but significantly different to our own and the Marvel Universe.

NB I am open to suggestions for characters people want to see featured. I've decided on the main ones, but cameo appearances are always possible!

**Prologue 1 **

The two men had been sparring for hours, neither gaining the upper hand, nor trying to. This was not a fight to the death nor a dual of honour. They were testing each other's range and skill, learning and adapting and teaching as they went. The small audience had changed since they began, one orange clad man replacing another as they went about their duties. Some only paused briefly, moving from one task to the next. Others stood and watched for ten or twenty minutes, only to move on and return later. No-one stayed for too long, all aware that this was a private matter and that their chores were necessary if dull. The younger members of the community stood for longer, trying to memorise every move and look that the combatants made, always trying to pick up something new. Their elders had taught these men much, but the skill and speed with which they moved took the basic instruction to new heights.

At a signal that no-one else had heard, the pair broke apart, bowed and left the dojo. They made an odd couple, one short and burly, covered in hair on his chest and the backs of his arms, not to mention the shaggy mop on his head and a truly impressive. In contrast his companion was tall and slim, broad shouldered and clean shaven except for a small goatee while his red gold hair was pulled back in a neat plait. They talked as they left, waving hands and arms to indicate moves and blocks, complimenting and insulting each other in easy measure. In all, they had spent three months in this place while the younger man recovered from a severe injury. Now, it seemed, the time had come to move on.

They paid their respects to the abbot the next morning before taking their leave. He nodded and smiled, encouraging them to return whenever they wished or needed. The journey was long and perilous, but there would always be a warm welcome here for them. They both thanked him with great respect and warmth and took possession of the cedar wood box they had entrusted to him upon their arrival. It was inlaid with oak, mahogany and ebony, a true masterpiece, made by an apprentice to show his master that he had learnt all the skills he needed to set up as his own master. The taller man wrapped it in its velvet cloth, then a thick fox skin before securing it to his back. He carried this alone, while his shorter friend carried the supplies they would need for the journey.

The whole monastery turned out to see them off, nodding and smiling, offering blessings and hands to be pressed as they passed by. At the first ridge, before disappearing from sight, the pair turned to wave to their friends.

"Good people."

"Yes."

No further comment was made or needed as they began the long descent back down to the rest of the world.

**Prologue 2**

Sir Nicolas Fury looked up from the deep brown earth, eye scanning the horizon for what had caught his attention. There weren't so many wild animals about now, having learnt that the colonists knew how to use the weapons they had made or brought with them. The land was flat and vast here, stretching out as far as you could see North. To the south, there was the small valley holding the settlement of Roanoke, the land barely dipping before rising again to the high ridge where Sir Reed and his family had made their own dwelling. Nicolas knew that the principle reason for its high vantage point was that Ben Grimm preferred to be able to see the sea from wherever he was. It also kept them a safe distance from the townsfolk who considered the whole family nothing short of fantastic.

They felt the same way about Javier's brood, which was why the schoolmaster had set up his own estate a little way downstream from the main town. His pupils were welcomed to the town, albeit cautiously. Nicolas appreciated having someone of Javier's intelligence and sense around. He loved Reed like a brother, but found his ideas incomprehensible at times. There was no doubting that the scientist had made vast improvements in the lives of the colonists. It was just that Javier's interest was in people, which was more to Nicolas' liking and understanding than Reed's scientific prowess.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Nicolas saw a small pale figure coming through the fields and smiled. Virginia Dare had become a beautiful young woman, her hair still holding the luminous pale glow that it didn't seem she would ever grow out of. She was holding a basket which probably contained his lunch, if he was lucky. Last time, she had been so distracted that she had only brought enough food for one. Not that he blamed her. As he watched, his ward, Peter, made his way across the field to intercept her. They made a fine looking couple, very much in love and with their whole lives to look forward to. It had been hard going, out here in the new world, trying to scrape a living from the soil with no help from the outside world. Nicolas had watched them come through their share of troubles over the past seven years, and was pleased that they would have a future to look forward to. Personally, he'd never felt the need to marry, but watching the two of them coming hand and hand across the field, he actually felt a pang of regret. Pushing aside as a waste of time and energy, he stuck his hoe in the ground and went out to meet them.

**Prologue 3**

It had been an unusually cold winter in Rome. Ice had been everywhere, making roads treacherous for carriages and feet alike. Even now, in early March, the wintery chill had not completely vanished and, despite being wrapped in soft white furs, Lady Emma Frost shivered. The room in which she was waiting held a single small stove for heating, its pathetic glow unable to do anything but prevent icicles from forming from the ceiling. She and her maid had been waiting two hours for their summons. It didn't appear that any was likely to be forthcoming.

They waited in silence for another twenty minutes, until a door opened and a large, swarthy man in purple emerged, followed by Cardinal Eitin, known to be close to the present Pope and, it was thought, with ambitions to the Papal throne itself.

"My dear Lady. Many apologies for keeping you waiting. Today has been very trying for His Holiness."

"I am at his and your service, Your Eminence." She kissed the ring on his extended hand. "How may I serve?"

"His Holiness has received a most disturbing report of events in the Indes. It is thought that the originators of these reports are now on their way to the New World, hoping to take refuge in that largely unknown country. His Holiness commands you to journey there yourself and send back a full report."

"The New World?" Lady Emma was thoughtful. "Is not that where the heretic Inquisitor traveled to?"

"Indeed." The Cardinal's voice was colder than the icy air. "This has been noted."

"I understand. I will leave as soon as arrangements can be made."

"Good." He turned to the silent presence behind him. "This is Bishop Lucas. He will accompany you. His talents extend beyond the saying of Mass and intercession for souls."

Emma looked the tall, imposing figure up and down. Then she nodded. "I understand." She said again. To Lucas she said, "If you will attend at my house at six tomorrow morning, I believe all will be in readiness."

"At your service, my Lady." His voice was the rumble of thunder and his brows were as dark as storm clouds. But his eyes were intelligent and keen, meeting hers with a calm stare.

"Until tomorrow then. Come Tessa. Your Eminence." She kissed the ring again and swept from the room, her black clad maid close on her heels.

"A fine looking woman." The Cardinal observed. "And an intelligent one."

"It is the maid whom we must watch." Lucas offered. "Her eyes see everything."

Eitin was pleasantly surprised. Despite his lumbering appearance, it seemed this Bishop was worthy of the trust given him by the Pope. "Indeed. She is her mistress's eyes and ears. It is said that she forgets nothing and tells nothing. If you can make her your ally, things will go much easier. You understand your orders."

"I do." The Bishop also kissed the Cardinal's ring before departing. As the door closed behind him, another opened. The man who came through this one was much smaller and more plainly dressed than the Bishop, wearing a simple monk's habit in black, denoting him as a Benedictine. It covered him from his feet to the top of his head, his cowl falling over his face and casting a deep, impenetrable shadow.

"You heard?"

The silent figure nodded.

"Then you know what to do."

The monk bowed low to his master then left the way he had come. The Cardinal stood for a moment, considering his plan from every angle. It would work as long as he remained the only one with sight of the bigger picture. By the time the others discovered their roles in his game of political chess, it would be too late to do anything about it.

**The Richards Tower, Roanake, Virginia, March 22nd 1609**

Susan knew what the sound was before she looked up. Sighing, she put down her needlework and went over to the window.

"Reed!"

Her husband, two floors down, put his head out of his own window.

"Sorry, my dear. An unexpected consequence of-"

"Yes I'm sure. Franklin is only just asleep."

"Oh. Sorry." He said again.

"Try to only have expected consequences, if you can? And make sure those are quiet ones."

"I will." He blew her a kiss before pulling his head back in.

Susan sighed again and returned to her sewing. Franklin was growing fast and seemed to constantly need more clothes. She sent down to the village for most of them, but there was something soothing and satisfying about doing some of it for herself. It was only a few minutes later when another sound, this time a knock at the door, roused her from her work.

"Come." She called.

"Lady Susan?"

"Wanda! Come in."

The young woman closed the door behind her. Wanda and her brother, Petros, had been left with the Roanoke colonists by the Inquisitor when he traveled north. Susan had done what she could to provide a stabilizing influence, particularly for Wanda. The siblings lived with Javier on his estate, learning better how to use the abilities that set them apart from the rest of mankind. Despite this family atmosphere, female company was rare here, and the two women had formed a close bond.

"How are you today, child?" Susan put down her sewing to look at her friend.

"A little better." The signs of sleeplessness were clear around Wanda's eyes and she carried herself with less than her usual grace. "The dreams are getting worse though."

Susan put her arm round the girl. The powers that made Wanda 'witchbreed' in the eyes of humanity were not fully understood, even by Carlos Javier. She could not only predict but also influence the outcome of events, increasing the likelihood that apparently unlikely things would happen. The direct application of these powers had not been immediately obvious and some of the rougher townsmen had tried to talk her into playing on their sides at cards. Over time, she had learnt to influence things in a certain direction, so that a falling object could be redirected or the growth of a plant improved. She and Javier had spent hours honing her abilities, not only to produce an unlikely occurrence but to sense it and between the two of them, they had ensured good harvests for the past three years.

The trouble had started eight months ago when Wanda began dreaming of things that would happen, as though all the world lay before her and she could see all the influences and fluctuations that acted on their lives. She had known where Thomas Thatcher had been hiding when the snows fell, or where Mary and Josiah Weaver's lost sheep had ended up. The intensity of the dreams rose and fell over time. It looked like this was going to be a bad week.

"What did you see?"

"The ships again. Riding through stormy seas. One bringing danger, the other light. It's been the same for the last week, except this time, there was something else, something chilled in the air." She shivered. "It was as though we were all being watched by another, casting a deep shadow across the sea."

"Did you see who was on the ships?" Susan was more than just inquisitive. Talking about her dreams helped Wanda, and the knowledge they contained could be useful.

"I saw," There was a pause as Wanda's eyes closed in concentration, "I saw a tall shadow, huge and imposing. Two animals, a fox and a wolf. All surrounded by a deep red glow." She shivered. "That's all."

Susan hugged her close, rubbing some warmth into her cold arms and shoulders.

"We'll get to the bottom of it, Wanda. Reed and Carlos between them will figure it out."

"I know." Wanda came back to herself and smiled wanly. "I just came to take my leave for a few weeks. Petros, Robert and I are going to go and do some surveying southwards."

They talked for a while, discussing the Javier's and Reed's hopes for what they might find. The island might be small, but there were hopes that one day the colony would fill it. They would need to know about the land they wanted to expand into and the survey was the best way of doing this.

Susan had her doubts about the wisdom of sending three young people out into the wilderness alone, however skilled they were. In her mind, she still thought of them as the children they had been, unwitting tools in the hands of their elders. Now all were full grown adults and deserved to be treated as such. Wanda was a good looking woman, privileged by birth so that she had been able to resist the convention that she should marry and start a family young. Susan herself had been a good ten years above average when she had carried Franklin. Still, she thought of them all as children, living as orphans under Javier's parental guidance even now. She also knew that he would maintain his airy contact with them no matter where they went and that the three of them were more than capable of looking after themselves.

"You make sure you take care of them, and yourself."

"I will." Wanda turned and pressed her head into the older woman's shoulder. "It scares me," she said, voice muffled, "and I don't know what else to do."

"You are already doing all you can." Susan soothed her. "Trust us. And come back safely."

"I promise." Wanda pulled away and brushed a hand across her face. Going over to the corner of the room, she bent and kissed Franklin's sleeping face. "Goodbye Franklin. Take good care of your mother." Putting her head on one side, she frowned, and then ran her eye round the room. "You need to move that table," she told Susan, "or he'll pull on the cloth and hit himself on the head with the vase of flowers."

"Thank you. Give my regards to your family. And tell Carlos that it is far too long since we saw him for dinner."

"Of course." Wanda kissed her again and was gone, red skirt flicking down the tower steps. Susan moved the table, checked on her son then went down into the kitchens to start seeing about dinner. If Reed's experiment was going well, he'd forget to eat, but there were John and Ben to think about. While pottering round the kitchen, she turned Wanda's vision over in her mind. People often featured in Wanda's dreams, coming and going in her mind as they came and went from the colony. The fox and the wolf must also be people, unless the girl's mind was wandering farther than usual. The question remained as to who they could be and what they would mean for Roanoke. Susan was fond of the place now, however unlike England it might be and she would protect it with her last breath, as would the rest of her family. She just had to hope it wouldn't come to that, for the sake of the colonists and the child sleeping peacefully in his cradle above her.

**Roanake Forest, Virginia**

Thoughts came back in a tangled mess as they always did. Memories reasserted themselves, forcing themselves into the conscious mind, demanding that he pay them attention. Then sensation returned, informing him of pain in his legs and back where he was lying against the uncomfortable bark of a tree. His clothes preserved only the minimum of dignity, their efforts counterbalanced by the matting of his hair and beard. He couldn't remember the last time he had shaved or washed. The beast had gone in the early hours of the morning, as it always did, leaving him weak and trembling with cold and shame. It all came rushing back now as he dragged himself towards the nearby brook, using the chill water to revive his mind and senses. Always it was like this. Always the disorientation, the shivers, the disgrace. The water sent needles of pain through his skin, bringing him to full awareness. Dragging himself upright, he staggered back into the refuge of the forest, seeking sanctuary from the monster within.

**The Middle of the Atlantic Ocean**

The ship had been thrown by a storm all night and, typically for this journey, was becalmed this morning. The sailors went about muttering of bad omens and ill fortune while their passengers skulked in their cabin. They were men of few words generally, and with the close confinement and continual bad luck, they spoke even less than usual. The smaller of the two was black of hair and eye, looking out at the world as though sizing it up for conquest. He did most of the talking, even when they were together, in voice and words that could charm the birds from the trees and the fish from the sea.

His companion towered over him, and everyone else they met. Even sitting on his narrow bunk, his head grazed the cabin ceiling. His hair was sandy brown, topping a face that was ruddy and worn. Despite his lumbering appearance, he could move fast when necessary and had an intelligence that you would not have expected from his looks. He also had a temper as red as his face, as several of the crew had had cause to learn and regret. After the last such incident, the Captain had asked, in a request that was definitely an order, that the passengers remain below decks as much as possible. The smaller man had complied, anxious to get himself and his friend across the sea as quickly as possible and attracting the least amount of attention possible.

The latter was all but impossible with his companion, who could attract attention just by standing still. This didn't prevent Thomas from trying to keep the other man out of trouble. His task was getting easier, however, by Cain's noticeable decline. It wasn't that he was shrinking exactly, more that each day he seemed to stoop a little lower and his head drooped more quickly even if he was still more than capable of ripping anyone on board apart with his bare hands. If they were unsuccessful in their search, Thomas feared his friend would be lost forever.

Three days later, the wind had picked up again and their pace quickened, pushing them ever closer to their goal. Under Thomas and the Captain's watchful eyes, Cain was standing on deck, head to the bow and gaze straining into the distance.

"You need to change heading." He said, in a voice that was the rumble of thunder.

"Don't tell me my business and I won't ask you yours." The Captain retorted. Without turning, Cain reached out a hand and pulled the struggling seaman closer.

"You need to change heading." He repeated. "That's where we need to go."

"I'd do as he says." Thomas offered. "Cain is never wrong about these things."

Pulling his jacket back into shape, the Captain made his way back along the deck, yelling instructions as he went.

Cain himself was still staring out to sea.

"We're losing them." He whispered, his voice whipped and lost on the wind.

"Don't worry." Thomas told him. "You'll find them again when we hit land."

"I will." Cain's hands gripped the rail, raising a creak from the timbers. "I have to."

"You will. Come on, it's time we had something to eat." They headed below, the big man's head turning occasionally to peer behind him, back to where land would appear on the horizon.

"I will find them." He promised.


	2. An Arrival

**Roanoke Colony, Virginia. 25th March, 1609**

Virginia gave up on her sewing. The light from the fire wasn't really bright enough to see by and she had nearly drawn blood the last time she had pricked her finger. In the corner, Peter was reading through some notes that Reed had sent him. While the knight was the acknowledged genius of the colony, even he admitted that Peter was better with his hands. Her husband had a real skill for making things, and even seemed to enjoy it. So when Reed needed a new piece of equipment for one of his experiments, it was Peter he turned to, for turning glass, wood or metal, there was no finer craftsman in the settlement.

Whatever Reed wanted this time, it was making Peter frown, and at one point he even turned the piece of paper upside down. Virginia smiled to herself but refrained from interfering. She was proud of the respect he had earned, his intelligence and wit making him a valued member of the town council, despite his years. They both looked up at a knock on the door. Visitors were rare after dark and they were expecting no-one. Peter reached the door before she could, opening it just enough to admit their guests while keeping out the chill night air.

"Carlos!" Virginia put her sewing on the table and gestured for their friend to take her seat. "And Henry. What are you doing here?"

"Always a pleasure to see you both." Carlos accepted the gesture and indicated for Henry to put him down. "But I fear Peter was a little hasty in shutting the door. We have had another visitor tonight."

Peter opened the door a crack again, eyes widening in astonishment as he stepped back to let the third man in. He was dressed what had once been fine clothes, and now were little more than rags. They still held a little of the red dye, clashing with the red-blonde of his hair and the bright red of the cloth round his eyes.

"You remember Master Murdoch?"

"Of course!" Peter exclaimed, clasping the outstretched hand. "Although he may not remember me."

"I remember you," Matthew Murdoch smiled and held shook Peter's hand "Or at least, I remember your voice, somewhat deeper than when we last met. Who else is here?"

"This is my wife, Virginia."

Murdoch kissed her hand and smiled.

"I'd say you were a fortunate man, Master Parquah."

"I like to think so. Let me get us all a drink."

Once everyone was seated and drinks had been provided all round, Peter turned his attention to the former minstrel.

"So, Matthew, have you decided to join our enterprise?"

"The New World? Carving a future from the land and all that? Not likely." He took a deep draught of his drink. "I'm a musician not a farmer, you know that. And who out here's got the money to pay me?"

"We could pay you in other ways."

Matthew snorted. "Thanks, but gratitude and grain only go so far. No. I'm here to warn you." His sardonic face grew grave. "You left a lot of enemies behind you when you came out here. Some of them have long memories and even longer arms."

"We can take care of ourselves." Peter said hotly.

"I don't doubt it. But it's a lot easier to prepare if you know what's coming, eh?" Matthew put his cup down at his feet.

"I believe," Javier put in, "that you should simply give us your news, whatever it is, in as ordered a form as is possible."

"Of course. Straight to the point, eh? Very well, Master Javier, a fully enumerated list." He ticked off the points on his fingers. "One. Von Doom is furious. He's crazed with anger and pain and intends to make you all, but especially Reed, pay for his humiliation. Last I heard, he plans to send an envoy out here as soon as he can get a ship. It hasn't been easy, as no-one will deal with him now, nor let him cross their land, and as Latveria is landlocked, he's been trapped. But local politics change quickly and he now has an opportunity that I don't think he'll want to waste."

"Who will he send?" Peter demanded.

"I'm not sure, yet. Possibly that Osborne character who brought the device to Elizabeth, God rest her soul. Possibly Natasha." The name was said with a complete lack of emotion. Anther finger was held up.

"Two. King James has his own ambitions in this direction. There are already colonies further up the coast, as you know, and you people are an embarrassment. He will do what he can to remove you. Whom he will send and how he will do it, I have yet to find out. Three. There is a Papal ship on its way. They are chasing something, but even my sources wouldn't say what. All I know is that they're coming here."

"Papal envoy?" Javier's voice was thoughtful. "I wonder if they have come for Enrique as well?"

"No idea. Wouldn't surprise me though." Matthew held up a fourth finger. "Four. Something seriously dangerous is on its way."

"You know, I expect, if you tried, you could be more vague."

Matthew gave Peter a sour look.

"All I know is what I've been told. It's not easy getting news from the East. I'm reliant on silk merchants and spice smugglers, but they know what they're talking about. There was trouble all down their coast for about three months then, two months ago, it all went quiet. The rumour is that whatever caused the trouble is traveling west."

"By land or sea?"

"Both I expect. You need to be ready, though. All of you." Matthew's usually melodious voice had grown grim and hard. "I heard some deeply disturbing stories about men attacking each other like animals and a giant coming down out of the mountains. It's all a bit garbled at the moment. I'm just saying be ready."

The group sat in silence for a moment, considering Matthew's news. Then Javier stirred himself.

"This fits with what I've heard as well. Wanda has been having dreams of danger coming across the water and two people, a fox and a wolf, bearing something that carries evil at its heart."

"Can you see them?"

"I have tried." The flickering fire cast deep shadows across Javier's troubled face. "They are clouded from me, so that one minute I think I have found them, the next I am sure I imagined it. For a man accustomed to being able to trust his own mind it is…disturbing."

"Whatever happens, we will be ready." Peter stood, bringing Murdoch and Henry to their feet as well. "Do you have a bed for the night, Matthew?"

"The Academy has plenty of room." Javier told him. "We will take good care of your friend."

"They have done a fine job so far." The minstrel clasped the hand that was pushed into his. "Sorry I couldn't be more specific."

"You've done more than enough in just coming. Thank you. How long will you be staying?"

"Not sure yet. It all depends."

"On what?"

"Oh, it just depends." Matthew's tight smile made it clear that he would say no more. He put his hand on Henry's arm and let himself be led away.

When their guests were gone, Virginia turned inquisitive eyes on Peter. His hand had gone to the reddened patch on the back of his hand, scratching as he always did when he was anxious or puzzled. The spider bite he had received all those years ago had never completely healed, leaving a nasty lump of a scar behind. His wife batted his hand away and turned his face towards hers. He shrugged

"We always knew there would be a debt to pay for our freedom. Looks like our creditors are coming to call at last. The King was never going to let bygones be bygones, Nicolas was wrong about that, and he will want our land. Our independence sets a bad example to other colonies and he can't afford to have that happen."

"You knew this would happen." There was accusation in the statement.

"Of course I knew. Just as Carlos and Reed knew. Anyone able to look past the next week could have figured it out. I thought it would have happened long before this, though."

"What are we going to do?"

For once, Peter didn't have a ready answer. He'd considered all the possibilities, turning them over and over and inside out over the years, as Sir Nicolas had taught him to do. None were attractive and all held great risk.

"I think," he said at last, "we will have to leave. We will have little choice. Even we can't fight off an entire army."

"I thought that's what Javier was training his people to be? I thought that's why so many had come flocking to him?"

"Even they won't be able to hold off everyone forever. Some of the townspeople will probably choose to stay, accept the rule of England again. The rest of us will not be tolerated, you know that as well as I."

Virginia's eyes fell and Peter cursed his rash words. Drawing her to him, he pressed his forehead to hers.

"I'm sorry, my darling. We'll have to hold a council tomorrow, decide what is to be done. If Matthew is correct, we are going to have many problems to deal with all at once. We will need to be prepared."

Warning him not to be too late, Virginia left Peter staring into the fire turning over in his mind all that he had said. The council tomorrow would be vital for deciding what to do, but he had a feeling he already knew the outcome. Their position here was about to become untenable, and he wouldn't blame the townspeople for asking them to leave. They had been here too long, become too settled and complacent, let themselves believe they could live like normal people. Fleetingly he wondered as he often did what life was supposed to be like. The arrival of Rojhas all those years ago had torn a hole in their reality, and after returning the time wanderer, they had all expected to be blotted out of existence. Instead, here they were, ploughing on with their lives. Peter had lost his friend and master that day, and the lost ached even now. He tried to remember all that he had been taught, all that he had seen Sir Nicolas do. He knew he could be but a pale imitation of his master, but he had tried his hardest to live up to the trust placed in him.

And now, their dream had failed, their hopes in this place were gone. As the shadows danced around the room, Peter felt the blackness of despair creeping in at the edge of his soul. There could be no peace for them. Then a gentle, low voice called his name from the next room and he felt the darkness flee from his thoughts. At least, with everything else that would have to change, he had this to cling onto. Dampening down the fire a little, he blew out the lamp and went to join his wife.

**Roanoke Colony, 26th March 1609**

It was a clear cold day, fitting for an early March morning. From the high ridge, the plains of Roanoke island stretched away into the distance, cornfields rippling in the light breeze. The sun shone brightly and to the two men standing looking down at the tiny colony, the weather felt was almost uncomfortably hot . They had traveled through waist-deep snow and walls of freezing rain to get here and were not put off by the early morning dew.

"You still sure about this?" The man's voice was gruff and deep.

"You gettin' cold feet?"

"Hmph." Making a noise somewhere between a grunt and a growl, he glared up at his companion.

They had positioned themselves to get the best view possible of the town, such as it was. A small cluster of houses on the river front, acting as the nucleus for the group of more outspread huts and shacks throughout the valley. Farmers needed to live near their land, not huddled together miles from the fields. On the far ridge was a tall tower looming over an impressive manor house, while hedgerows marked out a large area that seemed to be some kind of estate. They had scouted the area for two days before deciding to head to the center of the settlement. It seemed unlikely that the people they were looking for would be simple farming folk.

Few words passed between them as they made their way down the shallow slope, slipping occasionally on the still damp grass. Any arguments they might have had before were now irrelevant. Having set foot on this path, there was nothing to be done but follow it now. As they neared the township, the younger man pulled up the hood of his jerkin, casting his well-formed features into deep shadow. His companion straightened from his usual slouching posture, alert and ready for anything they might encounter.

The colony of Roanoke lived up to all their expectations. The houses were of rough wood and, at this early hour, seemed to be mostly deserted. In a place like this where candles and lamp oil were as rare as gold dust, people used every hour of sunlight available. A few crying children could be heard, along with mother's voices raised in shouts or singing and the occasional childish giggle. If they saw the newcomers from their windows, they made no noise or sign, leaving them to pass unnoticed between the houses.

As if expecting this, the travellers made their way onwards, towards a slightly larger house, standing on the very limits of what had to be called the town. This house was also deserted, so they passed it by and carried on towards the estate. They were within two hundred yards of the boundary hedge when a sound made them both look upwards. Above them, a figure swooped and dived, dancing through the air on wings of the whitest snow. It hovered above them for a moment, then sped away, back towards the manor house.

"I guess we don't have to announce ourselves." The younger man said.

This was proved true as they passed through the estate's gate and began to make their way up the long path. Even from this distance, the pale wings were clear, glowing in the shadow of the porch. Beside them, two smaller figures were visible and, as they watched, a third, taller man joined the group.

"Welcoming committee, d'you think?"

"Could be. We ain't gonna find out standin' here, are we?"

As they got closer to the house, the shadowed figures came into focus. One of the shorter shapes emerged as a seated man. The other was also a man, crouched on his haunches. Despite this, he was clearly of a great size, his massive hands the size of most men's heads. The small group watched their visitors advance with no sign of surprise or fear, both of which reactions the pair were accustomed to. When they reached the bottom of the steps, the younger man bowed extravagantly.

"Bonjour. A fine day, non? Do I 'ave the pleasure of addressing Monsieur Carlos Javier?"

"I am Javier," said the seated man, "and these are my pupils. Hal McCoy," he indicated the giant at his side, "Weren." The man with the wings of an angel inclined his head a fraction. "And Scotius Sumerisle." The final member of the group would have been a fine looking youth if it were not for the red glass that covered his eyes. Despite this, the angle of his head and the set of his jaw suggested that he was giving the newcomers a hard stare.

"Je suis Remus LeBeau," the young man said. "An' my hairy friend here, when he deigns to be addressed, goes by the name of Logan. We have come a great distance to find you, and your pupils."

"Then I hope we will not disappoint." Javier nodded for them to approach. "Please, come in and tell us what could be important enough to bring you all the way here from…" he left the sentence open.

"As I said, a great distance." Remus smiled, avoiding the obvious question. "An' we are here on a matter of the greatest importance."

Once inside, Remus pulled the sling from his back and laid the bundle on a low table. Only the grin on his face was visible under his low hood and he turned it on his hosts, who were subjecting him to the same close examination that he had given them. Knowing what they saw and possibly what they were thinking, his grin widened and he began unwrapping the package of cloths and furs.

"Normally, I'd sit down an' have a drink with you, earning my way wit' tall tales of excitement an' adventure. 'Cept I think you already seen more adventure than I can tell you about. An' we need a quick answer so's that, if you say no, we can be on our way.

As he finished, he pulled off the last layer of furs to reveal and intricately patterned wooden casket.

"May I?" Javier stretched out a hand and, at Remus' nod, pulled the box towards him, long fingers running over the carvings and inlaid veneers. "Fascinating. It's a puzzle box, is it not?" He pushed at one patch of maple which shifted under his thumb. "You have to get all the blocks in the right place in order to open it."

"Nearly. Get the blocks in the right places an' you'll find the keyhole. I 'ave the key."

"And just what are you protecting so zealously, may I ask?"

Remus, with a glance at Logan, answered with another question.

"How far 'ave you folks travelled?"

"We have all traversed the wide ocean to be here. Need you ask?"

"I'm talking about further than your homelands. Cos the thing in there comes from a lot further than Bonny England."

"Thing?" It was Scotius who spoke, hands resting lightly on the back of Javier's chair, leaning forwards enough to look down on the puzzle box through his strangely coloured glasses.

"Looks like I'm goin' to have a strange story to tell you after all."

"Just get on with it." Came a growl from by the fire. Logan had been warming his hands on the glowing logs, crouched down to make the most of the heat. He turned an impatient face on his companion. "We don't have time for this."

"We need a day's rest. Or I do, at least. No harm in makin' sure these good folks get the right idea, is there?"

The dark man grunted and turned his face back to the flames. Remus took a chair at the other end of the table and stretched out his legs.

"For once, you can believe every word I say. I'm sure Logan will correct me if I stray from the path." White teeth glowed in the shadow of his hood. "The thing we been carrying is too important to risk not tellin' you all you need to know. But I need to start by askin' how much you know about the Indus."

"Not much." Javier admitted. "I understand it is a largely unexplored land."

"Unexplored, maybe. Unpopulated it ain't. Right high up in the mountains there are tribes, temples and palaces you wouldn't believe. An' the mountains get pretty high. Most travellers, strictly unofficial ones, you comprends, don't make it past the foothills. The tribes make sure of that."

"But you managed it."

"We managed it." Remus's voice grew serious. "Cos we weren't the only ones. The peoples living up there on top of the world are said to have magical powers, to be able to cure all known diseases, maybe hold back death itself. Draws lots o'people, rumour like that does. An' they're not always the kind of people who deserve that kind of knowledge. For one thing, they don't ask nice."

**Remus's Tale**

(Transcribed at a later date by Henry McCoy, preserving the character and facts of the narrative, while eliminating the more colourful descriptive elements)

We found the village two days into the snows. The people had just started returning, trying to pick up the ruins of their lives. Something had ripped through the place, destroying their huts and killing anyone foolish enough to stand in the way. When we found them, they were too tired and stunned to run. They told us of two men, evil incarnate apparently, who had sought…something…and when they didn't find it, they tore the place apart. The head man begged us not to go after them, saying they must be demons in human form, unkillable and unstoppable.

So, of course, we just had to follow. It wasn't hard to pick up the trail of destruction, everywhere the same story. They moved fast, these afreets, as the villagers called them. Once, we worked out, they wiped out three whole villages and terrified four more in a single day. Even for men in a hurry that was impressive. And we knew they were men.

We had been put on their trail by a dying priest. His temple had been in one of the larger towns clustering at the bottom of the mountains, right on the river. He was the last guardian of a source of power so great that it took ten years of trainin' just to be able to look at it. Whoever took possession of the power became almost unstoppable, granted the strength of the gods. Only problem was, the power could not be contained in a human vessel and would eventually destroy the body unless its companion was also possessed. Two strangers had come from the outland, taken the source and destroyed the temple. The priest told us that they would now seek the companion piece before the host's body began to fall apart.

These power sources are in the form of two huge gems, one yellow, one red. The yellow, the Gem of Treorin, granted the power. The red, the Gem of Cyttorak, granted the ability to wield the great strength. The old man begged us to track down the thieves before they could find the second stone. Since it was on our way, we agreed.

It took us a week to catch a glimpse of them and another to work out their ultimate destination. And we were too late. The monks were doing their best to hold off the invaders, but they were losing the battle. So we did what we always do. I used my head while Logan used his fists. He drove them off far enough that I could get into the Temple compound and into the sanctuary. Once inside, the priests asked me to take the stone, get it far away from them to safety. What they didn't tell me was that the jewel has a way of claiming those who possess it and I had just made myself its guardian. Then and there, all I could think about was getting it out with myself and Logan in one piece. So I took the box and the key, put the Gem in it and ran.

Logan was taking a bit of a beating out at the gates. I didn't get away unbruised myself. But get away we did, high up into the mountains to a group of monks who were only too happy to help us. With the Gem, I could keep the others at bay, use its powers to confuse them and keep them off track. It couldn't last forever. So we came here. I heard that you're pretty good at confusing people. And we're going to need a whole lot of confusion to keep away those who want this.

**Javier Estate, Roanoke, Virginia**

There was silence for a while when Remus had finished. The box seemed to have grown as he spoke, looming over the group like a colossus. After a while, Javier said,

"It changes you? You said you became its guardian. What did it do to you?"

For answer, Remus reached up and pushed his hood back. The face underneath was pleasing and handsome, with the curving mouth that they had already seen set beneath a narrow straight nose and broad brow. Hair tumbled down, a rich auburn brown in colour, longer than average. It fell in waves, almost covering his eyes, which seemed to be the intention. The eyes that met Javier's were black as midnight, set with glittering red irises that flared and shone. It was like looking at two glowing embers on a bed of black coals. Remus smiled.

"I know what you're thinkin' but that isn't it. These pretties I was born with an' I consider myself lucky not have been drowned at birth." The smile was self-deprecating but with a hard, bright quality. "The gem just draws more out o'me."

"You're Witchbreed. That's why you came to me."

"You think?" The sarcastic grin was starting to get irritating. Javier felt Scotius' hands twitch on the back of his chair. "I'm impressed. You spotted it right off, didn't you. Nope, no foolin' you people."

"That's enough." Logan's voice cut through and Remus fell silent. "Don't annoy the people we want to help us."

"Point taken." Remus grew serious again. "This thing has to be kept safe, one way or another. An' the way it suggested was for us to come to you."

"It suggested?" There was scepticism in Javier's voice.

"Oui. This thing, it's got power of its own. If you know how, you can use it to know things, see things, do things. I know how." The statement was made without conceit. Instead, the weariness in Remus' voice made Javier look up.

"I get the impression that this is not entirely a blessing."

"Not always." Remus admitted. "Though some of the bonuses are great." He flashed his smile again.

By the fire, Logan twitched impatiently.

"When you two are done fencin', maybe you'll get around to making a decision."

For answer, Javier reached out and put a hand on the Gem. It glowed at his touch, as did Remus's eyes, and Javier felt something humming through it and him. The thing did not have a mind, as such. What it had was power and strength, and in that instant, Javier knew it could not be allowed to fall into the wrong hands. Assuming it hadn't already.

Across the table, Remus threw his head back and laughed.

"Very good, mon ami. Suspicious, calculating and intrigued. Good combination. But whether these are the right hands or not, the situation stays the same. Will you help?"

"I think," Javier said slowly, "I would like Sir Reed Richards to see this. His scientific capabilities far outstrip my own."

"Fine." Remus lifted the Gem back into its box and snapped the lock shut. "When do we leave?"

Two hours later, the Frenchman's smug smile had faded, leaving him looking bored and tired. Reed had been bouncing light in and out of the stone for twenty minutes, apparently fascinated by its facets. If any of the others shared his fascination, it had long since worn off during the many tests that had been carried out. Remus in particular looked as though he was about ready to jump out of the window, although he had settled for perching on the ledge, looking out onto the rolling fields of the island.

As the light faded, Reed sat back, stretching out an arm to retrieve his notebook from the other side of the room.

"Amazing."

"Oui, you said that already. And fascinatin', and incredible. We may suppose that you are impressed?"

"Very. How long have you had it?"

"Near on eight months now, and it has me, not the other way around."

This caught the scientist's attention.

"You mean it exerts a controlling force on you?"

"Not so much." Remus shifted round, trying to find the right words. "It is more as though it's inside my mind, prodding me in the right direction. It is not alive, and it cannot speak, but I can feel its presence all the time."

"And yet you bring it here for me to destroy?"

"No!" the young man jumped down from the window sill. "Pas de tout. The last thing I want is for this thing to cease to be."

"If it is so powerful and evil, why not seek a means to destroy it?"

"Because I have a strong interest in seeing it preserved. The strongest interest there is." His strange eyes met Javier's and the older man understood. He could not yet read the mind clouded by such power, but the expression in his eyes was perfectly understandable.

"Your life is linked to the Gem." At the confirming nod, Javier went on, "When you became its keeper, you and it became joined somehow, so that were it to be destroyed, it would kill you."

"Oui. It and me, we can't be separated easily now. Oh, it can be done, but there's a whole lot of chanting and ceremony got to be done first."

"What would happen if you were killed?" Reed asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"It'd take the next person who touched it as its Keeper." Remus laid a hand on the top of the stone, which glowed slightly at his touch. "She's tres fickle, this femme. An' she needs blood to keep going, to keep her anchored in this world." At their blank looks, he explained, "The gem has the power to break through this flesh and blood world, into ones beyond, be they heavens or hells." When he paused, as though waiting for questions, Reed nodded his understanding.

"We are more familiar with the concept of worlds beyond this one than you might expect. Go on, please."

"Well, the Gem needs a human keeper, both of them do, to make sure they stay in this world, and to keep them under control, as far as that's possible. That's my job. Only problem been that there never been a keeper before with my…gifts."

"Who was Witchbreed, you mean?"

"Exactement. And it does things to you, changes you in ways you might not think. I think I can control what it's doing better than most keepers before me, just because of that."

"And what is it doing?"

Remus paused, removing his hand and letting the glow die out again. "You remember I told you that the Gem of Treoris grants great strength."

"Aye. And this one the ability to yield it." Henry, who had been silent thus far, bounced up with sudden understanding. "This gem has granted you the power to better control your gifts, whatever they may be since you have not seen fit to confide in us as yet. Astonishing that something designed for an entirely different purpose should have succeeded in adapting itself for a new environment. It must have sensed the power in you and reacted accordingly. Remarkable." He subsided again, under the others' amused glances.

"Monsieur le bete there is right, but he's got a funny way of puttin' it. This thing hasn't done much for what I can do, only the way I can do it. And if anyone so much as thinks the word fascinating again, I'm packing it up and taking it away right now."

"Relating to that," Reed said, as though he had not heard the warning, "how long do you intend to remain in Roanoake?"

"Not sure. We need a day or so to rest and gather supplies. Then we're off North. Logan here has friends up there, and I have people who don't actively hate me, which is as close as I come to the same. We're going to take this thing up there and see if they can do anything with it."

"I see." Absentmindedly, Reed wound his arms round himself and behind his head, presenting a strange picture to his guests. "Would you allow me to keep this overnight? I believe there is a town council meeting today, after which-" he broke off, with a glance at Javier, who nodded. "After which, you may have some who would accompany you and assist you."

"We don't need your assistance." The voice was barely a growl from the corner. Logan had remained silent throughout the experiments, watching the group with badly concealed hostility.

"Really?" Reed said mildly. "Then perhaps you might assist us. I imagine there would be those who would be most grateful for contacts in the North."

"Fini, Logan." Remus told him. "Ici, c'est le bon endroit à etre, la bonne chose à faire. Trust me." This earned him a grunt from his friend, who settled back, much as Henry had done. Remus turned to Javier. "Look, we've been cooped up in here half the morning and Logan here doesn't do enclosed spaces very well. What about we leave the Gem with you to play with and see you all later on?"

"If you are happy to do so." From the corner of his eye, Javier could see Reed unwrapping his arms and eager to start work again.

"You can't do nothing to it without me knowing, and you can't take it anywhere I can't follow. We'll be around later on, probably once we get hungry." With a grin to Javier and a nod to Reed, Remus headed for the door, closely followed by his shorter friend. "If you need us, just call."

Once they were gone, Javier settled back to watch Reed and Henry prod and poke the Gem with every kind of test imaginable. His mind wandered down and out, following the two men as they left the tower. He could not penetrate either of their minds, but their presence was unmistakable. He stayed with them as they settled on the grass around the tower, talking in low voices, too low for him to eavesdrop. Despite the mysterious and possibly dangerous ramifications of their presence in Roanoake, he was inclined to trust what they told him, however sure he was that it was not the whole truth. And whatever the outcome of the town council, he knew that Peter had been right the night before. This place was no longer safe for him and his children. All they needed was an excuse to leave, unwittingly provided by these two strangers. Recalling his mind from such melancholy thoughts, he turned his attention back to the matter in hand, offering suggestions and advice as the experiment progressed.

Down on the field, Remus and Logan sat watching the clear blue sky. They were quite still for some time, not speaking or moving, just enjoying the peace and calm. From the doorway of the tower, Lady Susan Richards watched them, hardly daring to breathe herself for fear of being sensed. In the years they had spent here, she had learnt to control the degree to which she could or could not be seen, and while she could not yet become completely visible, she could force herself into visibility. She didn't do this very much, as others tended to find it even more disconcerting, being able to see her and see through her at the same time. But it helped for going down into the town or when they had company at the Tower. She also felt it was important that Franklin had some kind of idea of his mother's face, even if it was only a vague one.

Now, lurking in the tower doorway, she willed herself into absolute transparency. Even Reed would have had a hard time finding her like this. She watched as the two men stood and shed their coats, as if preparatory to exercise. And indeed, the taller of the two began to move, slowly at first, taking careful steps and moving his arms in an unfamiliar pattern. His companion watched, nodding with approval and offering advice and instructions, which were followed with an adjustment of an arm or a foot. Susan had never seen anything like the routine now before her. It reminded her vaguely of court dances from long ago, the steps and paces formal and practiced, yet they were like no dance that she knew. It seemed that the man was fighting with an unseen enemy and that both were moving in slow motion.

The movements became faster and more graceful, bringing to mind acrobats of the circuses that had visited London during Susan's childhood. The young man had the look of one of them, slim in the waist and broad in the shoulders, with a grace to every movement. He finished the routine under the older man's watchful eye, and earned a nod of approval as reward. The sun was high, now, and the day was beginning to warm. The athlete's face was flushed with heat, and Susan felt her own cheeks warm as he pulled off his loose tunic, retightening the belt of his breeches. Beneath the rough wool he was, as she had suspected, well muscled and slim, his olive skin showing the signs of regular physical exertion. It showed other signs too. Pale scars crisscrossed his shoulders and torso, standing out against his swarthy complexion.

Once recovered from her initial embarrassment, Susan studied the marks more carefully, sure that they would tell her more than he had done. She guessed that he had been on board ship, to judge by the marks that she knew must have been caused by a whip or cat o'nine tails, their thin lines quite distinctive. It was also a not unreasonable assumption that he had been on the wrong side of the law at one time or another, as there were burn marks on his arms probably the result of hot brands. Across these were narrow straight lines that were probably sword cuts, most likely the result of duels and fights. As he turned, she saw that his chest and stomach were less marked, except for three parallel stripes, running down from his left shoulder and disappearing beneath his belt on his right side. She knew of no weapon that left such a distinctive signature. If the smaller mystery was solved, she was still left with the question of how so young a man – for he could not be more than two and twenty – could have come by so much damage.

There was no time to ponder this further, as the exercise class had started again. A straight branch from a nearby tree had been pulled and stripped bare, and was now being used in a similar set of movements as before. This time the speed increased much more quickly, the staff blurring in the air as he swung it round his head and back. The other man offered no comments this time, just standing and watching the performance. It seemed to Susan that they were far too close for comfort, and that one of them would get a nasty shock if the staff should slip. The routine was coming to a finish and she could see her suspicions were right, as the younger man span and swung the staff down towards his companion's head. Her breath caught in her throat and she had to fight not to gasp aloud as he brought his weapon to a stop barely an inch from the shorter man's nose.

Then they both grinned and more words passed between them. The older man seemed pleased by the performance and clapped the youth on the shoulder. Susan was torn between wanting to ask them both about a thousand questions and the need to keep her presence secret. To her relief, instead of coming back inside, Logan was heading out towards the woodland that covered the west of the island, his loping gait giving him the look of a small bear or large wolf. Remus was bending to retrieve his discarded tunic when he stopped, his head whipping round towards the tower.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est?" He stood, looking directly at and through Susan. His hand came to rest on the staff which he had stuck in the ground, pointing at the sky. "Who's there?"

For a moment, Susan contemplated staying where she was, knowing that he could not possibly see her. But there was something in his eyes, voice and manner that told her he knew exactly where she was and was not going to just stand there and wait for her to show herself. So she stepped out of the porch, letting herself fade back into the near visibility that she found easiest to maintain. Others had told her it was like trying to see a spider's web or gossamer, a substance that was there only when you concentrated hard enough. Yet this man fixed his eyes on her the moment she appeared, and seemed to have no difficulty in following her progress across the grass.

"Madame Richards?" He gave a sketch of a courtly bow.

"Monsieur LeBeau." Susan held out a hand which he took and kissed. "I did not mean to intrude."

"How long have you been there?" He had not let go of her hand, and his eyes were sparkling red.

"Some time." Unsure if his tone was amused or not, Susan took a risk and said, "Long enough to be impressed."

"It seems to run in your family." The mouth curled into a smile and he released her hand. He turned away and bent for his tunic, still not speaking as he pulled it over his head.

"Where did you learn all that?"

"All what? Oh, that." The smile faded. "Can't rightly tell you where. Somewhere in the mountains, high above the Indus. But Logan's the one you want to talk to if you're interested."

"Interested? In learning that?" Susan couldn't keep the surprise from her voice.

"Of course. No reason a woman shouldn't be able to do it as well as a man. It's not about strength, just skill."

Susan wasn't convinced and didn't try to keep it from her face. She enjoyed the fact that few people could make out her true expression.

"Now don't look like that," Remus wagged his finger at her. "It's not nice. Would I lie to you?"

"I hardly know you well enough to say." Recovered from her surprise, Susan returned the lopsided smile. "Where did your friend go?"

"Just off on his own for a bit. He needs to clear his head every now and then, get away from people for a while. He'll be back when he's ready."

"Oh." There didn't seem to be anything else to say to that. Falling back into her duties as hostess, Susan asked, "Can I get you anything? Food or drink of some kind."

"Not now, merci. There a stream or river anywhere near here? It's hot work and I could do with cooling off a bit. Somewhere without an audience." He added pointedly.

Unperturbed, Susan pointed away from the Tower. "There's a small brook about a mile or so that way. It's surrounded by woodland, and I make no guarantees about onlookers."

"Merci, Madame." He bowed to her again and pulled his staff from the ground. "If you need me, you know where to find me."

Swinging the stick over his shoulder, he set off in the direction she had indicated. From his posture and manner, you would have thought he had not a care in the world. Yet the marks on his body and the Gem sitting in her husband's workshop told a different story. Susan had a feeling that getting to know this young man, and his mysterious friend, was going to be harder than it looked.


	3. A Leaving

**Roanoke Colony 26th March 1609, Evening**

The slump of Peter's shoulders as he came through the door told Virginia all she needed to know. She and Carlos Javier had passed a restless half hour, sometimes talking, mostly waiting. Matthew Murdoch had joined them, for reasons that he was keeping to himself, and he sat in the corner, head tilted and face blank. From time to time he hummed snatches of melody, of which Virginia only recognized the ballad of the Fantastick. Under the bandage that covered the top half of his face, she thought he looked thoughtful, as though his mind were many miles away from this place and time. For all that, he heard Peter's approach before she did, turning and lifting his head to the doorway.

She got up to meet him, lifting her face for a kiss and helping him off with his coat.

"How did it go?"

"About how you'd expect." With a nod to Javier he took a seat by the fire. "They were remarkably polite, considering. And John Storm held his temper, which has to go down as a minor miracle and an answer to prayer. But the conclusion was the same. They thanked us very nicely for all we had done, and now, if we didn't mind, they'd like us to go away please. Turns out the king has been sending emissaries with offers of mercy and clemency and, most importantly, food. John Smith up in Jamestown is on to a good thing, making friendly with the natives, but they're badly in need of more people. He figures to get them from us."

"Where is John?"

"He went straight home, fast and flaming. I think it did him good to work off all that restraint."

Matthew gave a snort of laughter. "No doubt. How long did they give you before the soldiers start arriving?"

"Oh, there'll be no soldiers. They can't spare them. But the surveyors from Jamestown will be here in three weeks. I think they want us gone by then."

"Listen, I've been run out of better towns than this one and let me tell you, this is the most civilized experience of the lot." Matthew's usual sardonic smile played round his lips. His attempt to lighten the mood did not go unnoticed, and Peter returned the smile.

"I know," he said at last, "you just would have thought they would be a little more grateful. That's all." As if noticing him for the first time, he frowned at Javier. "To what do we owe the pleasure of two visits in as many days?"

"Do I need an excuse to visit my friends, now?"

"No, but you usually have one."

"This time, I have news." He told them of the morning's visitors and their strange story. Peter listened in silence, his face growing more and more grave.

"You think that these are the ones Wanda foresaw, don't you."

"Yes." The older man's voice was firm. "I don't see how they could not be. I have recalled the three of them from their survey, since little is now to be gained from it. Whatever else happens, we must leave this place soon. I think we should accompany them and their precious burden."

Peter did not answer at first, his eyes wandering round the room as he thought.

"You're asking us to take an awful risk, Carlos. There are other places we could go, much less dangerous than this."

"I am not so sure of that." Matthew offered. "The king of England does not tolerate traitors to his throne."

"I would not return to England, and we need not go so far. There are French and Spanish colonies south of here that might have us. If not, there is land where we could start afresh."

"Peter, you are dreaming." Virginia managed to keep her voice steady. "You know as well as I do that there would not be enough of us to start a new colony. And we would hardly be welcome among the French or Spanish. The Pope holds too much sway in those countries for any witchbreed people to be safe."

"And are we to be safe with these two? Who will take us the Lord alone knows where? Virginia, I can't ask you to-"

"To follow you? Do you really think we'll be safe wherever we go?"

"Ginny, I-"

"You can't protect me from everything in this world, Peter. We should at least think about it." Her face was flushed and angry. Their eyes met and his cheeks coloured to match hers.

"Alright!." He lifted his hands in surrender. "No promises, but we will think about it."

That was clearly not the end of the argument, and so Matthew and Javier took their leave. It was a short walk back to the estate with Javier acting as the minstrel's eyes.

"Doesn't it ever frustrate you?" Matthew asked as they passed through the wide gate. "Having to be carried everywhere?"

"A little." Javier admitted. "Doesn't it frustrate you never being able to see where you are going?"

"A little, but there are compensations."

"Indeed. There are steps ahead of you, four small ones." Javier pushed open the door and directed Matthew to put him down on his usual seat. "How much longer will you be remaining with us? You are welcome here as long as we are, and after that, I would be pleased if you would join us. Your resourcefulness and experience would be of great value to our group."

"I'm not sure I'm all that much of a group player, Master Javier, although I am inclined to accept the invitation. It may suit me for a time, to lend and be lent other skills and abilities, but I would not advise you to rely on me."

"I had no intention of doing so."

Hearing the smile in the other man's tone, Matthew returned it.

"Very well then. I bring what humble knowledge I possess and the poor skill of a minstrel to your intrepid band. I warn you though, you may regret having to feed me as well. It takes twice as much food when your ears must do the work of your eyes."

"I will bear that in mind." Javier said dryly. "We will join the others at the Richards Tower later on for a full report. For the moment, I believe I need to start putting our affairs in order here."

"Will your students find it so easy to go?"

"I believe not. They have all left so much behind in their short lives that this place had become precious to them. But there will be other places and houses and things. We are a family now, which means more than all the roofs and walls in the world."

"If you say so. In my experience, they can mean more than you think."

"Perhaps. That is why I have also strived to teach them to be realists." Javier looked round the room, full of the signs of untidy people passing through on a regular basis. There were papers on most flat surfaces, books piled on the floor and what looked like a stack of instruments of torture in the corner of the room. It looked like Hal had been experimenting with metal again. Realising Matthew could see none of this, he said aloud, "If you would be so kind, Master Murdoch, I would appreciate your help in our preparations."

"Point me at it, Master Javier. Your wish is my command." Murdoch gave an extravagant bow and the two of them set to work.

**Roanoke Colony, 28th March**

The sun had barely appeared on the horizon when the party reached the Richards Tower. Peter and Virginia had joined Javier and his students, and together they waited on the lawn outside for the family to join them. It was in fact Remus and Logan who emerged first, carrying little more than they had brought with them. Logan eyed the cart Javier had commandeered, inspecting it from front to back.

"Not bad. Never seen one like this before."

"I designed it." Peter told him.

"Really? You've got a good eye."

"Do you know anything about carts?" The bitterness in Peter's voice caught Logan's attention and he modified what would have been a sharp reply.

"A little. Travelled in enough of them to know what works and what doesn't. What's this?" He pointed under the flat bed, at an arrangement of joints and springs.

"It stops it from bouncing around too much." Peter joined him underneath and began explaining how it worked. Virginia shot Remus a grateful smile and turned back to tucking blankets round Javier's legs. The cart had been a necessity, since it would have strained even Hal to carry the man for days on end. Peter was still struggling with leaving Roanoke, and the distraction of discussing one of his inventions was most welcome. It was the first time Virginia had seen these strangers and she had to admit that they were not what she had expected. From Peter's imagination and Carlos's account, she had imagined dark, menacing figures, glaring and growling at all who passed them. Admittedly both had an air of danger about them, as though they were constantly watching and waiting for something to happen, and neither were going to pass as gentlemen any time soon. But Virginia trusted her instincts, which were telling her that neither posed an active threat to her or her friends. She accepted Remus's help to get down from the cart, letting him take her waist and lift her as though she weighed nothing and set her on her feet. Smiling up at him, she said,

"I do not believe we have been properly introduced."

"I thought that was a fine introduction." His wide smile showed white teeth. "But you are right. Remus LeBeau, a votre service, madame."

She let him kiss her hand, surprised at his getting her title correct.

"Mrs Peter Parquah. Virginia." Retrieving her hand, she glanced down at where her husband was still crouched, explaining some of the finer points of design to Logan. "I believe your friend has met my husband."

"I believe so." They walked a little way from the cart, towards the sunrise. "I was surprised at the number of ladies who will be joining our party."

"The witchbreed is no respecter of sex or position, I am afraid. Many of these people were driven from their homes, exiled for being who they are."

"Hmmm." Was the only response. "Still, I am concerned that so large a party will have difficulty in moving quickly.."

"You'll find them well able to keep up. Don't underestimate us, monsieur."

"Wouldn't dream of it, madame. Since we're to be traveling together a while, I would consider it an honour if you would call me Remus."

"Virginia."

"Now we're better acquainted, will you do me a similar favour with these fair folk?" He gestured at the small clusters of people gathered on the lawn.

"Well, Scotius you've met, I believe? The fair haired man is Alexander, his younger brother, and the woman is Alex's betrothed, I think."

"You think?"

"I think." Not wishing to discuss the subject, Virginia ignored the sideways smirk. "Her name is Lorna Dane. Then that's Robert Trefulis, Wanda and Petros talking to Hal McCoy."

"Him I have met. What about the native girl? I wouldn't have expected to find her here."

"Master Javier accepts anyone who would come to him."

Letting her sharp tone slide past him, Remus went on in the same mild fashion,

"Because the tribes I have encountered consider the Witchbreed to be a blessing rather than a curse. They are more accepting than our European cousins."

Blushing, Virginia explained, "Danni's father sent her here to learn more about her gifts. She'll go back when she's ready."

"Danni?"

"It's a shortened version of her proper name. It means Star of the Moon in her own tongue. I think Carlos is the only who can pronounce it, though. The rest of us just call her Danni."

"Much easier to say." Remus's strange eyes continued to roam the group, before lighting on a slim figure apart from the rest, leaning against the foot of a broad oak. "Sacre-. Your Master Javier really doesn't fear anything, does he?"

Following his gaze, Virginia smiled. "No, I don't think he does. And she is much more than she appears."

"I know." Remus made his way across the grass, leaving Virginia trotting behind him, his long legs easily outpacing hers. As they approached the lone girl, she pushed herself to her feet and stood to face him defiantly, as though expecting a challenge or insult. Instead, Remus stopped so suddenly that Virginia ran into him as he bowed low.

"I regret, mademoiselle, that we have not yet been properly introduced. Please allow Madame Parquah to rectify that situation."

Not attempting to conceal her amusement, Virginia did so.

"Remus LeBeau, this is Ororo. Ororo, quiero presentarle a Remus LeBeau."

"Espanol?" Remus asked

"She escaped from one of the slave plantations to the south. Her former masters were Spanish and she speaks that language as well as her native tongue. Don't underestimate her though, she understands English fairly well." The two women shared a conspiratorial smile before Ororo offered her hand to Remus. He bent over it then asked something in a language Virginia did not recognize.

Ororo's surprise was so sudden and complete that she jumped, pulling her hand back and smacking Remus on the nose. Covering her mouth, she began to apologise in a mixture of Spanish and her own guttural tongue. He waved it off, his grin broader than ever.

"Pas de tout. I've had worse from not so pretty ladies. And you're going to be less impressed when I tell you that's the only phrase I know. Well, nearly the only one." The smile was wholly inappropriate but there was something about the young man that took away any possible offence. So she returned it and asked Ororo how she was. She knew enough Spanish, and her friend understood enough English, that they were able communicate quite well.

As the dark skinned girl talked of the disruption in packing up everything at the house, Virginia was aware of Remus's attention wandering. Whether this was typical male dislike of gossip or something more, she couldn't tell. After another few minutes, he excused himself and went to join Peter and Logan who had emerged from under the cart. The rest of the students were also picking up their possessions and moving together, so she and Ororo began to drift in their direction

The group had been joined by the Richards family and Sir Reed was leaning down from his horse to speak to Javier. Lady Susan was also mounted with Franklin safely in a sling before her. As more of the students gathered round, a hush fell across the meadow. The sun had risen now, casting their shadows across the grass and warming upturned faces. Everyone looked to Javier who smiled down at them.

"I suppose you are all expecting a suitable speech? I would encourage you to see this as a beginning rather than an ending, but I would not lie to you. The road ahead is long and filled with danger. We will encounter hardship and frustration along the way and it will be some time before we can relax and feel safe again. Yet this is a beginning. Nothing we are about to face is worse than that you have already seen. You have all come through fire and hostility to be here and have come out stronger than I could have hoped. I would not be taking you on this journey now if I did not believe you could meet it and overcome it. I know that whatever challenges you encounter, you will make me proud of you."

There was no applause or cheering, just a sense of peace sweeping through the group. Virginia saw Remus frown but was too caught up in the emotion to think anything of it. She knew that Javier must be projecting this onto the group and for a moment she did not care. He was binding them into a single unit, a family that was ready to face the world and its trials. Then Peter flicked the reins and the carriage jerked into life and the spell was broken. Sitting in the cart, she looked back on the village of Roanoke, nestling in its valley. The sun was over the hill now and the stream sparkled in its light. She thought of what she was leaving behind and a deep pang of regret clutched her heart. This was the only home she had ever known and now she knew that she would never see it again.


	4. An Attack

I'm not 100 happy with this part but thought I'd post them and see what people thought! So all reviews with **constructive** criticism greatly appreciated. Jx

**Virginia Beach, New England, April 2nd 1609**

It had been a difficult crossing from England. The ship now standing at anchor just off Virginia Beach had been battered and pelted by wind and rain, tiring both her rigging and her crew. Now, as the calm water lapped at her hull, she seemed to be catching her breath, waiting with relieved patience as the crew went back and forth with new wood for her body and fresh supplies for her hold.

The passengers had gone ashore as soon as they could, and now stood watching the small boats transporting huge logs and barrels of water back to the clipper.

"Well, Betsy, we made it."

"We did."

Brian Braddock looked across at his sister, trying to sense her mood. Since they had left home, Elisabeth had been moody and withdrawn, refusing to spend time with any of their group. He had no idea what the sailors had made of this silent, brooding woman who spend so many hours staring out from the bow of the ship. He didn't know if it was melancholy or fear, neither of which were usual for her. Moving closer, he put an arm round her shoulders.

"You might show a little enthusiasm. There aren't many who can say they have visited the New World."

"I know." She stepped out of the circle of his embrace. "But don't you ever stop to think, Brian? Don't you ever wonder what we're doing here?"

"Betsy…"

"I'm serious. You know I did not want to come. I am now asking you to think more carefully before following Ross without question."

"It is a little late to worry about this. We are here. We have a job to do for England. What more is there to know?"

"Oh, Brian." She turned her back on him and looked inland at the thick forests that covered this part of the coast. "I just want you to think for yourself."

"I am thinking for myself." He shot a look at their servants, standing at a respectful distance, carefully within earshot. Following his sister, he pulled her round to face him. "You know the situation. I had you to think of, and Jamie. What else was I supposed to do?"

"We could have come here ourselves." Betsy's eyes flashed with sudden anger. "We could have come to join these people instead of hunting them down. I know you take your responsibilities seriously, Brian, but I wish you would also think of what is right."

"This is right." Brian tried to keep his voice low, knowing that Piotr and Katherine would be listening eagerly. "We have no chance of a future without the sanction of the authorities. And I don't just mean our family."

Betsy held his gaze for a long moment before letting her eyes fall.

"I still say you are wrong. But I will follow for now. Do not disappoint me, Brian."

"I won't." He pulled her towards him and kissed her forehead. "I promise. Come on, Pitor. Let's see if we can do anything to help the crew."

There was little for Elisabeth or her maid, Katherine, to do except sit and watch the men work. Unhappy at the forced inactivity, Elisabeth wandered through the edge of the forest, investigating the flora of this strange new world. Katherine trailed behind, silent and resigned as her mistress to the necessity of their task. As the day wore on, the torn rigging was repaired and the string of little boats between the ship and land became less frequent. Finally, as the sun was setting, the captain was satisfied that they could leave.

"But not until the morning. This coastline is dangerous enough by day. We will spend the night here and weigh anchor at dawn."

They ate at the captain's table as usual, with Elisabeth providing a welcome distraction for these rough men. The captain himself was serious and surprisingly gentle, but none of their passengers were under any illusions as to where the authority lay. After a surprisingly good meal, Elisabeth retired to allow the gentlemen to smoke, and took her usual stroll around the deck. When she reached the prow, she paused a moment, letting her eyes and mind wander. The ship was never silent, the murmurs of the crew providing a constant background hum. To her, the hum was louder, encompassing the men's very thoughts, their hopes and fears. For most of them, this was unknown territory and they worried about meeting strange natives or running onto hidden shoals. Beyond them, she could sense the outspread people of this New World, covering thousands of miles and hundreds of tribes. She knew that what her fellow countrymen regarded as free land was already inhabited and that there would always be trouble where the two interests collided. The minds she encountered on land were unfamiliar to her, their thoughts covering unknown subjects and very different in their dreams.

Casting wider, she felt a ripple in the fabric of her mind. She sensed the world by covering it as though her mind was a blanket. She now sensed something different under the cover, something that disturbed her equilibrium. After a moment of concentration, she pinpointed two origins for the disturbance, both two the north and both powerful. Her gentle investigation had not alerted either of them and she withdrew with equal care. She would have to tell Brian of this, tell him that the ones they had come to seek were indeed here. The presence of two such minds meant either their intelligence was very wrong or they were not the only ones currently on the hunt. If King James could conceive the idea of sending like for like, it was not unfeasible that another could do the same. She decided to tell Brian of the second presence, the one traveling the coast as they would tomorrow. That was the immediate threat. As long as she had something to report, she supposed he would be satisfied. The other could always wait.

**Roanoke Forest and coast, Virginia, March 2nd**

The moment that thought returned was always a shock. He was grateful that there was no memory of the beast, only the last moments before the change. But he spent the first few moments as Banner trying to remember who he was and why he was so far from where he last remembered. There was also always a relief to have clarity restored. There was no memory left from the monster he became, just a feeling of rage and anguish, of pain and torment. Everything dimmed and blurred beyond the realms of knowing so that when the world snapped back into focus, it made his head swim.

He raised his face to the sun, trying to refocus on the here and now, to forget the darkness of night. In the distance, he could hear voices and noises, bangs and shouts of men at work. These weren't the usual noises of the forest, nor of the tiny homesteads he sometimes stumbled across. Weaving his way through the trees, he could made out individual voices and words, and his step became more cautious. He didn't want to be found and caught, dragged out to the laughs and jeers of men.

From the very edge of the wood, he could see the ship down in the bay and the men traveling to and fro. They were cutting down trees from the edge of the wood and carrying them back to the shore, singing and shouting as they worked. His vantage point provided ample cover to observe the newcomers. Apart from the crew, he could see a small group of better dressed men at the shore's edge. They were overseeing the work and discussing a map that was held between them. From time to time, one of them would glance over a shoulder to another group of people a short distance away. Shifting position to get a different view, Banner could see three figures, two small and slim ones either side of a tall, bulky shape. All wore dark cloaks with deep hoods, two of which were pulled up despite the heat from the sun. The third had been thrown back to show a dark haired woman with pale skin, almost shining in the bright light. As he watched, she turned her head to scan first the shoreline then the land up the slope of the hill. For an awful moment, he felt her eyes sweep across the place where he stood and he feared he could be discovered. She was too far away for him to see her clearly, but he could feel the intensity of her gaze raising the hairs at the back of his neck. With an effort of will, he forced himself to stay calm and pushed the beast, roused by his fear, back into hiding. His fears were truly eased when the bright stare moved back to the shore.

He stood for a long time, just watching the men come and go, the other men confer and the black-cloaked group watch in their turn. It felt strange to be close to other people again after so long alone. He knew that even now he wasn't really with any of these men and that any approach from them would send him running back into the safety of the trees. But for now, he just enjoyed being in their oblivious company.

The day wore on and Banner realized they would be leaving soon. Whether it was the thought of being left alone again or just a yielding to temptation he didn't know, but some impulse made him take a step out of the cover of the trees. Instantly, he knew it was a mistake as the dark woman's head snapped towards him. Then her companions turned as well, looking up to the wood on top of the hill. There were shouts from the sailors and some of them began to run towards him. Caught in an awful moment of indecision, Banner froze. He was terrified of disocovery and condemnation, while the rational part of his mind hoped that these people might be able to help him.

"Don't be afraid."

The words came directly into his head, a woman's voice, low and calm.

"We can help you. Stay where you are."

Looking down, he saw that the other small figure had cast back its hood to reveal pale blonde hair, glowing in the sunlight. The running sailors were closer now and he knew this was his last chance to flee. The indecision still pulled at him, his fear and his hope battling for supremacy. At the back of his mind, the beast stirred again, alarmed by the conflict in Banner. It began to rise as the sailors approached and he knew he would not be able to control it. He began to back away, raising hi hands to ward them off, warn them not approach, all the time knowing that it was too late. It was free.

The roar shook the leaves on the trees and the grains of sand on the beach. Tessa, who had been watching the strange scene unfold, pulled her mistress into the cover of the rock that jutted into the sea. Emma Frost did not resist the rough handling, allowing her servant to shove her into a crevice for protection. Her uncharacteristic passivity was due in part to her trust in the other woman and in part to the distraction in her mind. The creature that lurked in the darkest corner of Banner's mind was wild and uncontrollable, ripping through the psychic bonds with which she sought to bind it. She had sensed the brooding darkness and primeval instincts in the man but had not expected the physical transformation. Ever since they had arrived, he had watched them with such longing and sorrow that she had hoped he would come to them, out of curiosity and need. Instead, she could hear the beast ripping through the undergrowth and the cries of the sailors as they scrambled out of its path. And Emma Frost knew, with absolute certainty, that the creature was coming for her.

In front of her, Tessa and Lucas watched the sailors try to steer the huge monster away from the shore. It was not deterred by their shouts or the long spars that they thrust at it. Even a huge log, hurled by four burly sailors, was simply brushed aside, like a child swatting at a moth. Roaring again, the beast changed direction and began to make for the pile of rocks at the water's edge.

"It's coming for us. Get her out of here." The Bishop was already shedding his swirling cloak as he shouted the instruction at Tessa. She hesitated for a second, as though she would have stayed to fight alongside him, then she grabbed Emma's arm and began to climb over the rocks, dragging her mistress behind her. In truth, Lucas had no idea what he could do against the wall of green flesh coming towards him; all he knew was that he must give the women time to get away. Not for the first time on this journey he was grateful for the disguise in which he had travelled. As Bishop Lucas of Almeira he would have been encumbered by robes and skull cap, rosary and crucifix. As Lucas, servant to Lady Emma Frost, his loose fitting shirt and hose allowed him all the movement he would need. And he did need it as the monster bore down on him.

He ducked the outstretched fist, hearing it crack the rock face behind him. His foot lashed out in a blow that should have smashed the creature's kneecap. Instead the limb barely moved under his assault, not even enough to throw it off balance. The attack left Lucas prone under the beast, and in that awful moment he thought it was over. Then the shadow was gone from above him, and the creature was gone, scrambling over the rocks after Tessa and Emma.

Cursing in words that a churchman should not have known, Lucas threw himself after it, landing on its back and managing to get one hand on the giant's face. He tried to get his fist into an eye, hanging on for dear life with the other hand. He lasted barely a moment before his wrist was taken in an impossibly strong grip and he was thrown through the air. From the pain in his arm, he guessed that at least one bone was broken, and the jolt of the landing knocked all the air out of him. Apparently having decided that he was more than just a slight annoyance, the beast advanced on him, ready to stamp out his life. Still numb and winded, Lucas knew he would not have time to roll out of the way before the huge foot crushed his skull. He felt no fear of death, only the stinging rebuke of failure, as he prepared his soul with the words of the final confession.

Before he could say amen, he smelt the stink of brimstone and was struck with the sudden horror that his absolution was not complete. He cried out in anger and horror as a demon appeared above him, landing on his chest and wrapping its arms and legs around him. He saw its tail rise and was about to attempt to fight it off when the world vanished around him.

He came back to himself a moment later and a hundred yards away, brimstone and smoke clogging his throat and making his eyes water. With surprise, he realized he was still on the beach, lying on his back and that a hand was on his face. Choking and gasping, he looked up into Tessa's face. She was calm and impassive as ever, but he thought he read concern in her deep blue eyes.

"What-" he broke off, coughing.

"Don't try to speak yet. We'll get you some water when we can." Tessa glanced over her shoulder. "It seems we have been rescued."

Struggling up, Lucas looked back to the rocks where the creature was still lumbering about. He was about to ask why it hadn't followed them, when there was a clap of thunder and flash of smoke and the demon appeared again. It was everything the Bishop remembered. It seemed to hover in midair again, just long enough to plant a blow on the back of the monster's head before vanishing again. Enraged, the beast turned to swipe a massive hand through the cloud of smoke, yelling and roaring in frustration. The demon reappeared behind it again, landing another hit and evaporating with the now familiar sound and smell. The dance continued, the demon never materializing long enough to be caught and the creature becoming increasingly enraged. The demon was driving his adversary back over the rocks, back the way it had come, then there was a noise louder than the thunderclap the demon normally produced and the combined guns of the crew were fired at the monster. This last blow seemed to be too much for the confused creature and it began to flee again into the shelter of the woods. Some of the sailors got up enough courage to throw loose rocks at it, just to encourage it on its way.

Bishop turned to Tessa, cradling his wrist.

"Do you have any idea what that was?"

Instead of answering, she gently pulled his arm towards her, probing at the injury.

"Tessa?" he said again. "Do you know what that was?"

"What makes you think I might?" She turned his arm over, running cool fingers over the damaged skin.

"Because you don't seem to be nearly as surprised as I feel." He broke off with a yelp as her probing discovered a tender spot.

"I was very surprised." Everything in her voice and manner denied this statement. Even after three weeks on board a ship with the woman, Lucas still didn't know how to read her.

"Really?"

"Really. I think a bone in your wrist is broken but it appears to be a simple break. I will find a splint for it." As she started to rise, Lucas put his good hand on her arm.

"Tessa, tell me what you know." He didn't try to shout, cajole or threaten her, knowing that there was little point. She met his steady gaze without fear or reluctance.

"Until just now, Bishop," she emphasized his title, "I had no more idea about that creature than you did." Her tone was frank and clear as always, but Lucas knew an evasion when he heard one.

"Which creature, Tessa? The big green one or the small blue one?"

She smiled at this. "Either. Now, I must find something for your wrist. The captain will be over here soon and I must see to her Ladyship." Removing his hand, she rose and strode towards the edge of the wood.

The Bishop had almost forgotten about Emma Frost in all the confusion. She was sitting a few feet away, her golden head bowed and eyes closed. Lucas had never seen her look anything other than cool and composed; this disheveled woman was far from the proud countess he had come to know.

"Lady Emma? Are you alright?"

Shaking her head, she looked up at him.

"Not really. I'm so sorry, Lucas."

"For what?" He was genuinely puzzled.

"For bringing that thing down on us. I thought I could control him, let him come to us when he was ready. I though we could use him."

"Use him?" Lucas repeated. "My Lady, what are you talking about?"

"That creature, when in human shape, used to be Banner, servant to King James of England. I saw it all in his mind, the light that changed him, the life he has lived since then, the loneliness and the fear of his existence. I thought, if we helped him, he might be able to help us. I was wrong."

"Very." Lucas had little time for weeping women. He had respected Emma on the voyage for her forthright views and quick tongue. Now, he suspected, she just needed jolting out of her gloom and guilt so he kept his tone gruff. "Do you know what that was that saved us?"

"No." When she spoke this time, it was with some of her usual spirit. "Our guardian devil, perhaps?" She brushed the sand from her cloak, her hand now steady and manner more assured. "What is galling is that I didn't get anything useful."

"From that thing? What could you want?"

"Nothing. I meant from Banner, the man inside the monster." Emma pulled the clasp of her cloak back to center and shook out the folds. "Between the solitude and that thing inside him, very little of his original purpose is intact inside his mind."

"What about our rescuer?" Lucas asked.

A shadow fell across them and they looked up into Tessa's grave face.

"I believe I can answer that question." She said. Her companion was barely taller than her, enveloped in the robes of monk. "This is brother Kurt, of the Benedictine order," she went on. "I thought you might want to thank him in person."

"Of course." Emma appeared unperturbed. "Although we may be more sensible to move away from the crew. We do not want to be overseen or heard."

They went a little way into the wood, where Emma settled herself at the foot of a tree and gestured for the others to join her. The Bishop felt as though he was attending a summer picnic rather than conferring with a demon in monk's clothing. As he rested his aching back against the rough bark, Tessa sank down next to him and pulled his wrist towards her.

"I think you may dispense with the hood, Brother." Emma said. "We have all seen your true face."

With obvious reluctance, the monk obeyed and Lucas noticed that the hands that tugged at the rough cloth had only three fingers. The face beneath the cloth had been mere inches from his own but in the dappled light it was less fearsome and terrible. The lips were closed over the pointed teeth and the yellow eyes no longer seemed to glow with a light of their own. There was intelligence in those eyes now as they met the Bishop's.

"I trust your arm will heal." The voice was not, as Lucas had expected, hissing and screeching. There was a faint trace of a Germanic accent and a purr behind the smooth syllables.

"He will be fine." Tessa was binding Lucas's hand with strong sticks and cloth that looked to have been torn from her skirts. The pain had dulled to a constant burn, flaring when Tessa's fingers found a tender spot.

"It appears I must trust my doctor." Said Lucas with a smile. "And my rescuer." Kurt acknowledged the thanks with a brief nod. "I thought you were the devil himself at first." Lucas went on. "But you are witchbreed, are you not?"

"Aren't you?" Kurt's voice held the edge of a challenge.

Emma just laughed.

"Aren't we all? No, Bishop," she forestalled Lucas's protests, "it is a fair question. Mother Rome grants us deliverance from our wicked natures and in return we remove the thorns from her side, is that not so? God forgives all who repent but the church prefers to see repentance in action."

"Be careful, my Lady." Bishop warned. "Your words might be taken as treason."

"Against whom?" She threw back. "I speak my mind, as always, Bishop. It is a little late now for the church to have scruples about me. I am assured of salvation through my works despite the black stain on my soul."

Her voice was light and assured but something in her eyes made Lucas wonder just how black that stain was. Aloud, he said.

"Very well, I believe the point is made." To Kurt, he said, "So you were sent to protect us?"

"To watch you and assist you where necessary, yes."

"Watch us?" The Bishop repeated. "Spy on us, you mean."

"A little." Kurt's pointed teeth showed as he smiled. "The Cardinal is a very suspicious man."

"But he trusts you." Tessa said, finally releasing Lucas's arm.

"Enough." The smile faded, leaving only the tips of two fangs showing. "Let us say that I have proved worthy of the necessary amount of trust."

"You sound more like a courtier than a monk." The Bishop said, cradling his injured wrist.

"And you are more like a wrestler than a bishop."

"Gentlemen." Emma broke in, her eyes far away. "We are missed. We must return before they send a search party for us."

"What about our furred friend?" Lucas asked.

"Do not worry about me." Kurt stood and bowed to each of the ladies. "It will be there when I am needed." With a last grin, he disappeared into cloud of brimstone.

Shaking his head, Lucas stood and offered Emma his good hand.

"I do not trust him."

"Despite his saving your life?" Tessa asked.

"Despite that. I do not trust what I do not know."

"In that case, Bishop," Emma said, "you had better take your guard against the world, for there is more in it unknown to you than known. Come Tessa." They swept down the beach to intercept the search party while the Bishop watched them go. Bright and dark, one hidden in shadows and silence, the other dazzling so that you could barely see. Lucas heartily resented the Cardinal's implication that he could not manage the task alone as much as he resented no knowing about their extra help. If this much was unknown, he would begin to question the very basis of his mission. Since he had little choice at present, he would have to proceed as planned and he swore to carry out his duty, whether helped or hindered by the others. Swinging his cloak over his shoulder, he strode down to the waiting long boat.


	5. An Interlude I

_This is rather short, but then it's meant to be! And I promise, this is the last set of people I've got to introduce. Will bear all comments and suggestions in mind and include all plausible ones! (ludi and minnaloushe – am still working on a way to include Rogue…;))_

**20 miles off the coast of Virginia, 5th April 1609**

The storm had been terrible. It had chased the ship for hours, foreshadowing its arrival with gusting winds and drizzling rain, before finally falling upon the vessel. Thrown about by the waves and the gale, the sailors fought for their lives. Ropes were grabbed, wrestled and restrained; sails were furled to protect them; two men attempted to manage the madly spinning wheel. The captain himself stayed on deck, screaming orders and flailing his arms when he could not make his words understood. No one suggested retreating below decks for safety. They had learned to fear that enclosed space more than the storm.

In their cabin, two of the passengers braced themselves against the next lurch of the hull. Between them, a lamp swung madly from the ceiling, shifting the shadows around them.

"We should put that out." The woman said.

"And sit in the dark?" Asked the man.

"It would be better than burning to death." She told him, reaching out to extinguish the flame. As she did so, the ship rocked again, throwing her across the room and into the man's lap. He steadied her for a moment, hands firm on her waist, before depositing her on the bench next to him. She glared through fallen red hair.

"Allow me." He reached out a long arm and plunged them into darkness. They sat listening to the ship creaking and their own breath rasping in their throats.

After a while, the woman asked,

"Will it disturb him more, do you think?"

"I don't think so." Her companion replied. "The draught I gave him should keep him for hours yet. We have a little peace for the moment."

Despite the darkness, the woman nodded. The worst tempest of the year was raging above their heads, the ship was groaning like a woman in labour and they were sitting in the dark in a stuffy cabin, yet, for them, this was peace. While their companion slept, they could relax their guard, ready to raise it when he awoke. The floor tilted again and she was pitched against the man, who caught her arm and held her steady. His grip was not that of a lover or a brother, but of a guard, cold and hard. He steadied her, bracing his feet on the floor and his free arm against the wall. When the ship rolled back, he released her arm and pulled her against him so they could use each other for support. Despite the intimacy of his hand against her hip, the woman felt no indignation or delight. All the finer emotions had been driven from her over the past seven years of constant vigil, so that only the hard core of her being remained. This man now embracing her had entered this fiery trial three years ago and they had reached an understanding for their mutual protection. If one of them gave way now, all would fall apart.

The woman gripped the bench beneath her, bracing herself against the next plunge of the ship in the storm, wishing she had a god to pray to for deliverance. Beyond the cabin, in a dark corner against the hull, she could hear their companion sleeping. His breath came in hollow, metallic gasps, uneven and shallow. He was never at peace, awake or asleep, and the only hope for any of them was that the prize they were chasing would bring them all the rest he sought.

****

**A Beach, Virginia, 5th April 1609**

The sand stretched for miles. When Thomas looked to shore, all he could see was a golden glow, spreading as far as the eye could see. It was beautiful. He drank in the clean air, at peace at last after the gales and storms of the crossing. One of the sailors swore he could smell a storm, not thirty miles off. All Thomas could think was that he was grateful not to be in it. The sight of shore had put the crew in a better mood and the passengers had been allowed a certain amount of freedom. They had slept on deck the night before, away from the humid air of their cabin, and the sudden acquisition of space had even improved Cain's mood a little. They stood in the bow, as usual, and watched the faint glow become gleaming sands, and finally the coast of the great country.

"We stop here."

Thomas turned to see the Captain behind him, hands on hips and head thrown back.

"What?" Thomas held his temper for now.

"We stop here. You've made me push this crew harder than dogs and the ship needs to rest. We need supplies – water, food and wood for repairs. We'll put you ashore to make your way while we make ours back home."

"Ashore." Cain repeated, drawing out the two syllables. "It will take nearly twice as long to cover the ground on foot."

"That's not my problem. We were hired to bring you here, no more than that. No-one said anything about chasing phantoms or traveling up the coast. My ship is tired. My crew is tired. We'll wait a day or so for what we need, then we're headed home."

"And nothing will make you change your mind?"

If the Captain had been a brighter man, Thomas's gentle tone and silken voice would have put him instantly on his guard. He would have ordered the pair of them clapped in irons and thrown overboard. He would have drawn his cutlass and forced them to climb into a longboat. He would have saved himself time and trouble and had them both shot. Instead, he folded his arms across his chest and tried to look resolute.

"Nothing. I am firm in this."

"Very well, Captain. I will not attempt to change your mind." Thomas turned to Cain, who stopped rumbling under his friend's glare. "We will wait aboard until you have sufficient supplies then take our leave of you. I trust that is acceptable?"

The relief of victory flooding through him, the Captain nodded. "Quite acceptable. Good day, gentlemen."

The passengers watched him return to his duties, shouting at the men to hurry.

"I will not walk." Cain said.

"Peace, my friend." Thomas stroked his beard. "You will not have to."

"But you said-"

"I said you need not trouble yourself with this. Concentrate on finding what we seek. I will see to transportation."

"Each moment it moves further away." Cain turned his head north, as though he could see beyond the horizon. "We must follow soon or we will lose it."

"I know." Thomas soothed. Cain had been more irritable since they had sighted land, but his head dropped more and more and there were dark circles under his eyes. His lack was beginning to tell on him and it grieved Thomas to see his friend so diminished. "I will get you what you need. Trust me."


End file.
